


East of the Sun (and West of the Moon)

by akfedeau



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: (some romance but no more explicit than Hollywood), F/M, Illustrated, Implied Sexual Content, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2014-12-30
Packaged: 2018-03-04 10:23:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3064310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akfedeau/pseuds/akfedeau
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eight months after the end of the Reaper War, Shepard appears on Omega to find Zaeed Massani - and makes him an out-of-character offer. Why is she there in secret? Why did she come alone? And what could she want from a man like him in a time of newfound peace?</p><p>[Note: Assumes a headcanon Destroy ending where the Citadel, synthetic life, and the mass relays are intact. Also plays with Zaeed’s post-ME2 canon, for poetic justice.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	East of the Sun (and West of the Moon)

Deep in the dark of the lowest Omega wards the streets glowed red and hung thick with smell and smoke.

Steam burst from the cramped food counters. _Curry rice! Tuchanka sauce!_ The vendors yelled beside the cooks. _Ship salvage! Cigarettes! Buy a carton, get this month’s Fornax discount code!_ Asari danced two stories high in their lurid pink windows, and the music from the brothels and bars sent waves through the stained, scuffed floor.

Two men ducked under an awning and watched their backs as they spoke. _No, listen,_ one murmured, _I need a guy to disappear…_

And amid the sellers and the swindlers and the soldiers of fortune, Zaeed Massani slipped his way through the bustling crowd.

He took a right into the alley. He sidestepped the merchant stands. He ignored the working girl’s front and sized her up from the back, and turned up his collar as he passed a group of Blue Suns smoking outside.

 _Biotic amps!_ The cries faded behind him. _Aftermarket biotic amps!_

And he turned into the weapons shop in the alley’s far corner, where a sign reading _Law-N-Ordnance_ flashed white-hot into the night.

 

* * *

 

“All… right…” the weatherbeaten store owner checked his kiosk - “Looks like that’s your last layaway payment.” He turned it around so the drell in front of the counter could see. “I can get that for you right now, if you promise you won’t shoot your eye out.”

“I dunno,” Zaeed quipped from under the door. “I shoot pretty good with only one.”

The owner searched around for the voice - and he lit up like the sign on his store.

“Massani!”

“Vick, you old bastard!” Zaeed emerged from the doorway with his hands in his pockets. “Good to see this place still standing.”

“Didn’t see you at my door without that krogan shoulder plate.”

“Yeah.” Zaeed sidled up to the counter. “Been trying to keep my nose out of business. The armor was a bit of a statement.”

“I was starting to wonder when you hadn’t shown in months.” Vick pored over his drell customer’s credit chit. “Was worried somebody’d finally got one over on you.”

“If somebody’d got one over on me, you would’ve known.” Zaeed leaned on his forearm and watched the market outside. “I’ve put it in my will for them to send you my brain in a jar.”

Vick started up from the chit.

“What?!”

Zaeed snorted.

“Really?!”

“Of course not, you idiot.” Zaeed shook his head and rubbed his arm through his sleeve. “Still. Glad you missed me.”

“Shit. With how you work?” Vick searched on the back shelf. “You practically kept this place open by yourself.”

“Cute.” Zaeed admired a refurbished handcannon under the glass. “Have I got any store credit?”

“Come on.” Vick grinned, but - “Don’t push it.”

“ _Damn._ ” Zaeed jabbed the glass with his finger. “Always works on the Citadel.”

“That’s because they’re _afraid_ of you.” Vick dragged a box off the shelf and hoisted it onto the counter. “So. Are you gonna shop, or waste my time?”

“Let me… uhh…” Zaeed watched the drell leave with the box and scratched behind his ear - “let me see what you’ve got in grenades.”

The store catalogue datapad slid across the glass. “Just do me a favor and blow ‘em up somewhere else.”

Zaeed snatched it up. “Be a favor to your decorating sense.”

He scrolled with his finger and tittered as he read down the list. _Mark 14s. Armax incendiaries._ The bass from the bar across the alley droned on outside...

_Click._

“Uh…” Vick backed up and raised his hands. “Hey, buddy…”

Zaeed ignored him -

“Someone wants a word with you.”

Zaeed peered over his shoulder and met a pistol to his head.

“Zaeed Massani?”

He followed the gun back to an arm and up to a head. Turian. Armored. Angry.

“Says who?”

“Says that scar on your ugly face.”

 

 

“Well.” Zaeed sneered at him. “Maybe you’re not my type yourself.”

“Were you that glib three years ago when you got my brother killed?”

Footsteps rustled behind them, and a crowd of goons came through the door. A batarian… a couple humans…

“Listen.” Zaeed set the datapad aside and kept his elbow on the counter. “I don’t know who your brother was.” He eyed the turian’s hand again. “But if he handled a gun like you do, it wasn’t _me_ that got him killed.”

The turian snarled, and his men drew guns of their own.

Zaeed’s hand went slow for his waistband. “Now why don’t you fuck off before you get in real trouble…”

_Bang!_

A shot from outside crashed through the window and hit the wall.

The glass shattered. Someone screamed. _Bang! Bang!_ Zaeed whipped out his pistol and Vick grabbed the one under the counter, and they picked off the humans as Zaeed dove out the window frame.

The crowd scrambled. Zaeed hit the ground rolling, and a shot flew past his ear. He ducked behind the metal shipping crates as the sea of bodies swirled around him, and sent off one shot, two, _come on_ , he _had_ to have gotten them all! But as he fired his last round in stormed one more batarian, full speed, gun drawn, _and god dammit,_ Zaeed’s trigger stuck and the spent thermal clip smoked, as he backed up and his head pounded and he stumbled into the mob -

And a sudden burst of blue light ground his assailant to a halt.

Zaeed watched in awe. The batarian staggered and twitched and choked on himself, struggling and going limp and slumping to the ground.

Zaeed squinted at it - braced himself - waited for it to move -

Dead.

“Hey!” Vick protested from inside the store. “Who brought the biotics to a gunfight?!”

The crowd trickled back in. The bar turned its music back up. Zaeed peeled himself off the ground, and as he dusted off his jacket sleeve he heard a voice that burned in his ear.

“Mr. Massani.”

Zaeed stopped. That Oxford-spacer accent…

“I presume.”

Zaeed’s eyes shot up from the corpse. Out came Irina Shepard from the shadow of the alley, in a black civilian tunic and a cowl on her head.

And the blue aura around her faded as her biotics cooled down.

“I have to grant you where it’s due…”

“Blondie?” Zaeed asked under his breath -

“You’ve made yourself expensive to find.”

 

 

Zaeed finished standing up. “Why are _you_ back on Omega?”

“Looking for you.” Irina came closer. “Why else?”

Zaeed pointed his pistol at the ground and ejected the thermal clip. “Didn’t know you were in the people-finding business.”

“I’m not.” Irina brought her heels together. “I just have tea with the Shadow Broker.”

Zaeed made a perturbed face, and…

“Well. I hope you’re not planning to make saving me a habit.” He shoved the pistol back into his waistband. “Be hell on my reputation.”

“No.” Irina folded her hands behind her back. “But I’m not in town for long. And you could humor me something else.”

Zaeed looked skeptical. “Like what?”

And Irina stood up as straight as she could.

“Let me buy you dinner.”

She took Zaeed aback.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Two women murmured to each other outside the bar. _Is she an asari?_

“I won’t lie, Blondie, this is kind of out-of-the-blue.” Zaeed made sure to leave her name out as he paced around to her side. “Of all the people I thought I’d hear from again, you weren’t one.”

“I know.” Irina lowered her voice. “But things are different now. And I’m… trying to take inventory of who’s left.”

“On the brass’s clock?”

“On mine.”

Zaeed furrowed his brow.

Irina lowered her head, and the shade under her cowl swallowed it whole. “Call it… regathering what the war cast to the wind.”

Zaeed frowned deeper - and thought about it - and gave her a sidelong glance.

“You know the last girl who bought me dinner tried to kill me.”

“Well,” Irina fired back, “I’m sorry to let you down.”

 

* * *

 

“So.”

A fire pit crackled in the center of the bustling restaurant. Patrons flirted at the bar. Servers rushed out steaming trays. The accent lights shone low and moody around their table, and a matching cube lamp flickered orange between their plates.

 

 

“What’ve you been up to?”

“Not enough.”

“All right. Well.” Zaeed talked out the side of his full mouth. “That’s up for debate. But _what?_ ”

Irina sighed. A waiter slipped past and left the smell of dextro octopus.

“Well, I…” Irina began. “You know what I’ve been doing, is a lot of shaking hands with people. Ambassadors. Dignitaries. Command from other fleets.” She almost smiled. “I like the officers. They’re the most forgiving of my time.”

Zaeed wrinkled his nose. “You’ve got a funny sense of ‘forgiving.’”

“I mean they know we’ve both got better things to do.”

“I guess.” Zaeed fanned some of the steam off his plate. “Heard on the news last month that you’d gone back to Eden Prime.”

“I did. Again.” Irina rubbed the corner of her eye at the thought. “They’re doing all right, considering.” She said it with an ounce of gloom. “Still. Not _that_ good. It _was_ a reparations tour.”

“Reparations?”

“We mined planets nearly out. We put colonies in harm’s way.” Irina stirred her pasta around. “Now that these places can see tomorrow, it’s time they be repaid.” She reached for a sip of water. “The relief efforts are everywhere. I’ve barely been home.”

Zaeed listened as he ate.

“I mean - what we ought to do, of course, is let them rebuild themselves.” Irina finished her next forkful. “It makes jobs, and they’re the ones that know what they need, anyway.” She speared more sausage. “My presence is politics.”

Zaeed swilled his own drink. “Take some pictures. Sign some heads.”

“Just about.” Irina sounded hesitant as she picked an onion out. “I… don’t really know what I’m doing. But. Noblesse oblige.”

“Stick your neck out for some workers.” Zaeed smirked to himself. “That’s the Shepard I know.”

Irina glowered at him.

“You’re yanking my chain again.”

“Well, it’s just I’d hate for you to hurt your neck.” Zaeed picked up his knife. “I like it the way it is.”

Irina’s ears burned. “What?”

Zaeed shot her a cat grin. “I’ll let you figure it out.”

Irina’s eyes darted away.

The plate squeaked as Zaeed cut his sausage. Irina went back to her pasta and tried to not to look at him too long. Worn hands, she noticed. Short fingernails.

A dish clattered. Someone laughed in the background.

And Zaeed finally picked the conversation back up.

“I guess you’ve been doing these victory tours by yourself.”

“Why?”

Zaeed finished his drink. “You didn’t mention anyone.”

Irina withdrew a little. “Now you’re being absurd.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you _are_ ,” Irina insisted. “You know how I conduct my life.”

“So.” Zaeed propped his elbow on the table and talked with his utensils in the air. “You’re telling me that Hair Boy. That biotic. What’s-his-name.”

Irina tried not to react to his table manners. “Major Alenko?”

Zaeed gave her a wink-nudge expression. “That you two _never_ had anything.”

“Of course we _didn’t!”_ Irina stabbed at her plate with her fork. “I might as well space all of Alliance protocol at once.”

“Ahh yeah. That’s right.” Zaeed leaned back and nodded. “Always did have a stick up their ass about shipboard romance.”

“I don’t disagree with them. It makes war untenable.” Irina polished off the last of her sausage. “You’re irrational. You’re distracted. You’re a threat to the whole team.”

“I tell you what, though.” Zaeed set his knife aside. “I think he had a thing for you.”

Irina put her own down.

“No.”

“Sure he did.” Zaeed chuckled. “Followed you everywhere.”

“But I.” Irina faltered. “I thought…” she put her napkin over her mouth - “I don’t know what I thought.”

The asari guests beside them got up and left, and Zaeed hung a careless arm on the back of his chair.

“Tell you what.” He clicked his tongue and signaled the waiter. “I’m at the hotel next door, and this drink was watered down.”

Irina pulled out her wallet without answering…

“Let me take you up for a nightcap.” Zaeed unhooked his arm. “And a better place to talk.”

 

* * *

 

Zaeed locked the hotel room door behind them and threw his jacket on the bed.

“You want anything else from the stash?” He left his pistol on the counter, and went to investigate a small fridge behind the bar. “Doesn’t matter to me. I’ll just hack the tab when I leave.”

Irina scoffed. “You can’t work an omni-tool.”

“I…” Zaeed grumbled and swatted his hand at her over his shoulder - “hell. I’ll figure something out.”

Irina walked through the room as she took off her hood and gloves. A double bed. Two low lounge chairs. More red lights on the wall. Handsome. But shady.

“You know, I didn’t… want to bring it up at dinner.” She studied the wall lamps. “But…”

Zaeed dug in the fridge. “What’s that?”

“Did you ever find Vido again?”

Zaeed came up for air, a whiskey bottle in hand and wearing a devious smirk.

“You wanna know where he was?”

“Oh my god. You did.”

“The Shrike Abyssal.” Zaeed searched for two glasses. “On another mined-out hellhole. Took until last month to find him, but I chased him halfway across the planet once I did.” He pulled them up onto the counter. “Got him cornered in a factory like the one on Zorya.”

Irina leaned forward on the bar between them. “And what?!”

“I paid six men to hold him down.” Zaeed’s eyes lit up at the memory. “And I shot him in the face.”

Irina marveled at him without answering in words.

“Been living it up ever since.” Zaeed popped the top off the bottle. “Cuts into my retirement package a little, but what the hell.” He filled the glasses. “I haven’t found a garden world I like yet anyway.”

Irina paused.

“Garden world?”

Zaeed slid her glass over. “That’s right.”

“You want to hang it up.”

“Maybe I’ll get bored. Go back to the merc game in a few years.” Zaeed stepped out from behind the bar and sank into the chair by the nightstand. “But for now… well.”

Irina noticed the change in his voice, and took the chair across from him.

“I’m tired,” Zaeed confessed to his glass before he drank. “Didn’t think I’d live this long. Certainly didn’t expect to survive a war like that.”

Irina looked away.

“Oh.”

“And something tells me neither did you.”

Irina froze.

“Massani…”

“Dignitaries? Reparations?” Zaeed crossed his legs and repeated them back to her with contempt. “You’re not a politician. You’re a goddam war machine.”

Irina fumbled for a response.

“I think peace doesn’t suit you.” Zaeed set his glass on the nightstand. “Which is why you dug me up and paid the Shadow Broker, and flew all the way out to the Terminus Systems to buy me dinner.”

“I --”

“Because you know it doesn’t suit me.”

The quiet fell hard and fast.

Irina finished her drink and straightened her back and restored her countenance.

“Well.” She got up from her chair. “I should go. I’ve kept you too long.”

“Leaving already?”

 

 

She stopped in her tracks.

“It’s…” she stole a glance at the clock by his glass - “It’s late. I don’t want to take up all your evening.”

“I think we both know what you want.”

Irina stood rooted to the floor. Zaeed kept her dead in his sights as he shifted - uncrossed his legs - settled his feet apart - and raised his hand off the chair and patted his thigh. _One. Two._

The breath stuck in Irina’s throat. She stared. He stared back. Blood throbbed in her ears and the room felt too dark and too close, and his hand lingered like a loaded gun in his empty lap.

So she took one step back toward him.

She gulped. Took another. Zaeed cleared a space for her as she sank onto his knee, steadying herself with a hand on his chest…

And he grabbed her by the waist and kissed her all at once.

Irina gasped. He dragged her down onto the chair arm and sent her legs overboard, and she snatched at him in confusion as he went to work.

He growled. He bit. She patted him down in search of something she knew. A shoulder? A stomach? A shirt? The floor dropped out as he hoisted her up and onto the edge of the bed, and she tried to reach around, and copy him, and _ow,_ she flinched when he bit her ear…

And in the heat of the moment Zaeed’s hands slowed to a crawl.

“Shepard…”

She murmured back, “what?”

He sounded suspicious.

“Have you done this before?”

_“What?!”_

He played with her collar. “It’s just a question.”

“I --” Irina stammered - “how does that change anything --”

And he spoke in quiet wonder as he traced her chin with his thumb.

“You’re a virgin.”

Irina folded in on herself. “Why do you _care?!”_

“I don’t. It’s just.” Zaeed’s hand came off her jaw. “I can think of a lot better places.” He lowered his gaze and looked almost rueful. “And a lot better men.”

Irina searched his face for help. _Come on. Say something. Something like…_

“Well, too bad,” she blurted out. “Because I can’t.”

Zaeed blinked at her once. Twice. Irina opened her arms and took him by the cheeks - and pulled him down to kiss him back.

They closed their eyes. He held her waist. She cradled his head in her hands. The covers rustled under them and the clock ticked by the bed, and through the shadows of the blinds the cars raced on the midnight sky.


End file.
